Saving April
by WhoIAmHatesWhoIAm
Summary: Holly hadn't expected any of this. Infact, she can safely say that the thought of her older sister being kidnapped never crossed her mind. Well, until now. Sherlock\oc. At least read the full summary inside before judging! Try it out!
1. Prologue

**Title:** Saving April

**Summary: **Exactly 3 days, 5 hours, and 47 minutes ago marks the time when 23 year old April Michaels was abducted out of her own home.  
>Exactly 5 hours ago marks the time when younger sister, 20 year old, Holly Michaels found out.<br>Exactly 25 minutes ago marks the time when she found a pair of leather gloves and a note on the floor by her sister's bed.  
>Exactly 10 minutes ago marks the time when she decided that the only way to get this done, was to do it herself.<br>Holly hadn't expected any of this.  
>She hadn't expected loosing her other half, contacting the world's youngest and only consulting detective, and falling in love to be on her agenda.<br>Until, well, now.

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock does not belong to me, nor does the TV show. This is written for entertainment purposes.

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** Hey guys! This was a story that started off on my friend's mibba; we were writing it together. I wrote this(The prologue) and she was going to write the next chapter, but she never did. She didn't want to continue it. So, I decided to continue with it on here! Just so there's no confusion about "stealing" and things. With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

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><p>"Three days…She's been missing for three days already! And—and it didn't even occur to your insignificant minds to tell me?" Holly pushed her tousled red hair back with her palm, trying to contain her rage. Her parents were sitting on the couch, watching TV as if they didn't care. Of course they didn't care. Holly would be more shocked if they did care.<p>

"She'll turn up. She's 23, she can take care of herself." John, the father, was pigging out on one of his many teacakes. Holly's nose crinkled in disgust.

"Take care of herself? Are you joking? She was dragged out of her own home—you know what? Forget it. I'm going out."

They hadn't bothered with a 'be safe' or 'come home before dark' because truth of the matter was, they'd be happier if she didn't come back at all. Which, right now, was what she planned to do. She was 28, in University, and living in this hell-hole until she could afford her own place; because Lord knows her parents weren't buying her a dorm.

She stayed with April most of the time. April was her savior; she kept everything together. Holly didn't understand why April put up with their shit, but well actually, she guessed it was for her sake. April couldn't really support two people with her job, and while she had a flat to live in, Holly would usually bring the food over. It was terrible, needing total arses like their parents to survive.

Holly arrived at her sister's flat in record time; she hadn't realized she was just about sprinting. The air was leaving her mouth in soft puffs of clouds as she made her way up the stairs. The frigid air felt good against her run-warm skin; it brought chill into her body and made her feel something. She was scared, yes, but she wasn't too worried. Holly, without a doubt, was going to bring April back.

Everything was normal, as usual, inside the flat. There was no police tapes or caution strips, because her parents hadn't hired anyone. They didn't want to spend that much money.

Holly felt anger burn in her blood.

She used light steps around the flat, taking in every inch of everything. The way the window was still open, making the tiny apartment glacial. The way her blankets were spread on the floor, which Holly had expected because April always put up a fight. The way her computer was still on and plugged in. The way nothing was missing but April.

In the breeze of the open window, Holly noticed a small slip of paper sweep across the floor, landing next to a pair of brown gloves.

"How convenient…"she muttered to herself, taking a cautious look around before picking them up the note.

_This is for little Holly:_

_You don't remember me, but I remember you.__  
><em>_Catch me if you can.__  
><em>_Look forward for more hints, and welcome to the game._

"That's it? Seriously? That's all you're going to give—this is for me. This note is for me." She slumped to the floor and thought, deeply, about everyone who she could have crossed. But there was no one in mind; no one at all. She hadn't offended any freaking rapists and abductors, for crying out loud.

"Well fine," She grumbled to herself, going over to the computer. "let's play the game, then."

It took 10 minutes to find a guy who would help out, who at least didn't have a price on his page. She read through some of his case files; apparently he was some sort of genius. It said not to bother him with boring cases. Holly figured that she could at least attempt a sob story, and that maybe he'd take some pity on her and offer to help, free of charge. She didn't like the thought of needing someone…but right now it was all she had.

_"Ah, a phone number!" _

In the back of her mind, she thought about how this man could be a scam, but she needed to start somewhere.

"Whom am I speaking to?"

The abrupt question took her by surprise for a moment, and she took a deep breath. "My name is Holly Michaels. I have a case that might interest someone named Sherlock Holmes."

The line was silent for a moment.

"221b Baker Street in London. Tomorrow at 1 p.m. We'll be awaiting, Ms. Michaels."

The line went dead.

"Well, if that wasn't the weirdest thing I've ever fucking heard…" She mumbled to herself, pulling her hair up out of her face in frustration. It was sketchy, and completely odd, but she had no choice. Tomorrow at 1, she was going to 221b Baker Street and she was not leaving until someone agreed to help find her sister.

She shut the window—which, she realized she should have done ages ago—and slid into April's bed, shivering at the feel of the frozen cold sheets. She was staying here, because she knew she was safe for now. She knew that for whatever reason, the kidnapper wanted to play with her. But he wouldn't abduct her, at least not now. Not until his game was played.

She had most of her clothing here anyway; it was pointless to go back to that secondary home.

Holly fell asleep that night, with one thing on her mind:

Saving April.

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><p>So, what do you think?<p>

This is just the prologue. Hopefully longer chapters are in the making (I'm actually writing one up now.)

I'm looking forward to feedback!

I want to know how you guys feel about the storyline; if you skipped the introduction(which, don't feel guilty, I sometimes do too) you should go read the summary for a fuller view of what's going to go down.

How's the writing style? I hope to get more Sherlock-y soon (;

Reviews are really appreciated!


	2. Chapter 1

Holly almost passed 221b on Baker Street. It was a tiny little doorway in between two shops, and she just about missed it. Well, okay, she did miss it, but after a walk or so around it caught her eye. Thankfully, she left earlier than she had planned.

Upon knocking, a slightly older woman answered the door. Her hair was short, boy cut and blonde, and she had a guarded but friendly look in her eyes. She wore all purple; right down to her tights. Her slightly wedged shoes were black, though.

"How can I help you?" Her voice was firm, but nice, so Holly felt herself smile. She didn't want to be rude, after all.

"My name is Holly Michaels, I—I made an appointment with Mr. Holmes?"

The woman's face lit up with a smile. "Ah, for Sherlock did you say? Good, good, very good. He's been bored out of his skull lately. Do come inside, I'll prepare some tea. Go right upstairs, dear. I'm certain he's waiting."

She quietly made her way up the narrow staircase, taking in everything she could. It was an old, comfy looking flat. A little dusty, but Holly kind of liked it. It gave her a feeling of home she didn't really have.

She lifted her hand at the closed door, curling it into a fist to knock. A second before her knuckles touched the door however, a man opened it.

"Oh, hello!" His voice was different than on the phone, and Holly took a step back, slightly cautiously. Her head tipped to the side. She stood her ground, though.

"Mr. Holmes?" She questioned.

"Oh, no. I'm his—doctor, work partner colleague, flat mate—friend, I guess, would sum those all up. I'm John Watson, do come inside. Mrs. Hudson let you in? She will probably be making some tea."

He talked quite a bit; almost as if he didn't get to speak enough. Holly just smiled. "Okay, thank you Mr. Watson."

"Please, call me John."

"Okay, thank you John." She corrected and made her way into the flat. It was pretty nice, actually. Really quite messy, but so homey that she felt as if she could fall asleep right then and there from the comfort. There were books strewn about everywhere, and boxes filled with papers on tables and the floor. The flat was worn in, and very warm. When she breathed in, the scent of books and tea filled her senses. She wondered how weird it would be to ask if she could live here, just from the sheer love of it.

"I have found a flat mate already, Ms. Michaels, but thank you for the thought."

Holly jumped out of her thoughts, finally focusing in on the source of the voice. He was—well, there's no better way to describe it other than _perched_ on a sofa chair. Literally perched. He was watching her intently and a little curiously. She felt her face flush.

_Had I said that out loud?_

"Don't worry, you've said nothing out loud, Ms. Michaels." He spoke again, his voice slightly monotonous…but his eyes were glimmering with amusement. Holly's face flushed brighter.

"What are you, a mind reader?" She pulled herself in protectively, narrowing her eyes at the man with the simply Cheshire-like grin on his face.

"Oh, stop bothering the poor girl, Sherlock. She's a beautiful lady, and you ought to treat her nicely. Now come, dear. Sit down and have some tea. I can assure you Sherlock is just a big talker, he's harmless…well, to you, at least."

Holly was terribly confused, but she let the comforting feeling of the gentle older woman coax her to a seat on the sofa across from the perched man. She took in his appearance in detail. He had curly dark brown hair; almost chestnut, but almost black.

He had piercing blue/grey eyes, and really full lips. He had a really deep bow in his top lip. By the way he was sitting, she calculated that he must have been really tall. He had nice hands, too. All in all, he was someone to be considered attractive.

When Holly focused back on the present, she found him watching her intently.

"Sherlock, stop scaring her already for Christ Sakes. She's here for a reason," John scolded, then turned to Holly, "aren't you?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She had to stay focused.

"My sister April was kidnapped. From her home. Straight out of her bed, I believe. It was three—well, four days ago. She—I don't have the right mindset to figure this out on my own." She admitted tightly. "I also—I also don't have much money. I'm 20, in Uni, and paying for that basically."

"No parents?" Mr. Holmes questioned, looking a little shocked, and a whole lot interested. She shifted her gaze and ignored the question. This made him grin harder. Right, so, parent trouble. This girl seemed pretty strong about things, and even if she were a little secretive, she would have mentioned parents if things were alright. Now he just had to figure out what problems.

"Anyway, I told you I can't offer you much money—but I can offer you an interesting case. These," she started, pulling out the pair of leather gloves and the note, "were left by her bedside. The note…well, here. Read and inspect to your heart's content."

Sherlock gingerly took the note and gloves; looking giddy. He read the note swiftly, and Holly noticed the way his eyes lit up. She had guessed he was pretty big on chases and mysteries, so maybe he'd help out.

John was sitting on another chair, trying to look nonchalant but failing. Clearly, he enjoyed the chase just as much.

"You don't know anyone, anyone at all, who'd do this, Ms. Michaels?"

"Call me Holly," She started, and then chewed on her lip. "Honestly, Mr. Holmes? I have no idea. I sat up for ages thinking about who I could have pissed off so much. Clearly it's intended for me; whoever it is wants to play some sort of game with _me,_ and I can't say that I know why."

Sherlock studied the girl, taking in her every move. Holly knew he was trying to see if she were lying or not; so she kept eye contact. She had absolutely no idea who could have done something like this, and she intended to let everyone who cared, know.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was having a bit of a difficult time reading the girl. Well, that's not completely true. Judging from the way her shoulders were constantly being pulled back into a poised stance showed that she was extremely self-conscious with herself, but tried to make herself seem well kept. Her hair was beautiful shade of red, which—well, here comes Sherlock's problems. He noticed things about her that weren't supposed to matter.

Holly squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, which Sherlock deduced was at the fact of being watched. Being uncomfortable under gaze further proved his point of self-consciousness. The way she broke eye contact showed a strong sense of abuse. It was from a man, statistically speaking. Possibly a boyfriend, but unlikely, judging by the way that there was a bruise on her shoulder where her shirt slipped lightly; and not on her hip from when he noticed the pale, unmarked skin when she stretched. That rules to family member, most likely a father. The bruise looked a couple days old, so it's possible that she doesn't stay home often.

"Mr. Homes…?" Holly was clearly very freaked out. She had been sitting there for the last 5 minutes while he simply stared at her. It wasn't in a leering way; she knows the difference. But him trying to figure her out was almost worse.

"Holly, then. Call me Sherlock. We'll be taking a look at your case. Don't worry about payment. Consider yourself lucky that I've been extremely bored as of late, and there's only so many more times I can shoot the wall before Mrs. Hudson charges me for it again. "

Holly spared a glance to the wall and as suspected, there were holes, _bullet holes oh my god, _in the wall.

Never mind that they were all shot directly at a large spray-painted smile on the wall. Right then.

"John, give her the details of what usually happens; I must go out. It was lovely meeting you, Holly. We'll be seeing each other soon." With that, Sherlock Holmes was gone.

Holly and John sat in a comfortable silence for a while, neither really wanting to speak first. The quiet was calming; something neither of them had had in a while.

"Right, well, I take it he's always like that?"

John just smirked. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Well, at least you're never bored."

"Why do you think I'm still here?"

They shared a small smile between themselves, and Holly figured that this John fellow must have been a pretty good guy. He had a kind look to his eyes that just couldn't be faked.

"Right, well, Sherlock changes plans as he feels, but what usually happens—well, I can't really say. Nothing 'usual' happens with him. But since he hasn't thrown himself off the couch in a fit of 'I've got it!' means he's probably out searching for something that could help him figure out some leads. He took the gloves, I'm sure. So, as of now we'll call you tomorrow and let you know what's going on. Should we phone the number you called from?"

"Yes…yes that'd be fine. You'll keep me posted, I assume?"

"Of course. Here, take my number. If you see anything else, or if we get anything, I'll let you know." Holly exchanged numbers with the man and set her phone back into her pocket.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll be off. And—well, he's not here right now, but I really do appreciate this. I don't go for help much. So it means a lot—I was kind of out of options." She chuckled harshly, slipping her coat back onto her body. John was comforting, but in a non-hovering sort of way. Just by his eyes. She could really grow to befriend him; if time allowed.

"Right, I know how you feel. Don't worry, I should be thanking you. A busy Sherlock is better than Christmas for Mrs. Hudson and I." He chuckled, holding the door open for the girl.

"Well, thank you again John. I'll be seeing you!" She bounded down the stairs on light footsteps, peeking around the banister to see if Mrs. Hudson was there. She was.

"Oh dearie, I hope everything is all right. With Sherlock on your side, though, I'm sure you'll find your sister. Do take care now. And feel free to hit it off with Sherlock, he needs a woman in his life. Oh, you're such a beauty too!"

Holly just laughed and felt her face turn red, and she tugged on a strand of hair from embarrassment. Honestly, she wasn't a platinum blonde like her mother, and she didn't have a figure like her sister. She was doe eyed with bright red hair. But she accepted the compliment; no one likes a fisher.

"Well, thank you Mrs. Hudson. You do take care of yourself!" She smiled.

"Come back anytime you want, I miss having a female to talk to!"

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><p>Sherlock came homes, hours later, to a very disgruntled John.<p>

"You do realize that you can answer a text and call, right?"

"I was a little preoccupied with searching, John."

"Yeah, well I was a little preoccupied with a date, but I had to worry about your dumb ass anyway. Besides, I could see the excitement in your eyes. Enlighten me, what's so special about this case?"

"I don't know yet. That's the beauty, John. That's the beauty. Someone, someone wants to get to Holly. They want to play a game." Sherlock sounded absolutely giddy.

"We will keep her safe, won't we? She's a nice young woman."

Sherlock's eyes flickered with something lightly akin to concern. "Of course, John."

"What was that?" John sounded smug, and amused. "I could have sworn I heard concern in your voice for someone other than, well, your skull."

"Don't be stupid, John. I show concern," he said the word with distaste, "for you and Mrs. Hudson. And no, I just don't have her figured out yet. She's quite the interesting one, couldn't you see?"

When John didn't answer, he continued. "What I learned was the she was, maybe possibly is, abused by someone most likely her father. She's self-conscious but keeps herself walking with a high head; attempting to show confidence. She chews on the inside of her cheeks constantly at all times, showing anxiety. It looks like she doesn't notice it, meaning she's been doing it for a long time. Judging by the small stain on her sleeve shows that she drinks her tea with milk, and that she's clumsy. It's proven by the way her shoes also had a tiny splash of tea on them. Lighter in color, meaning she's spilled it before, she—"

"Sherlock, I get it. You're interested in her."

"Well—technically I'm just interested in learning about her."

"If you know all that, what makes her so difficult to figure out?"

Sherlock remained silent, and went for his violin. "Stop talking, John. I have to think."

John just sighed.

Tomorrow was sure to be the start of something interesting.

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><p>well, how's it going? My first chapter of this story! I'm pretty pumped.<p>

So, pumped, in fact, I wrote up another part!

I actually have a couple of ideas on how this is going to go.

Feedback would be b-e-a-uuuutiful! I want to know how you guys are feeling about this.

The only thing I'm changing slightly, is their ages. I don't remember offhand how old they are in the show

(OH THIS IS BASED OFF OF BBC SHERLOCK. BY THE WAY.)

but I'm making sherlock 27 and Watson 29. Woops. they're kind of young but whatever,

take it as it comes, bro.

And I changed Holly's age from 18 to 20.

I think that's all the changes I will be making, so yeah. Tell me what you're thinking of the story so far!

Tell me some things you want to see! I'll do my best.


	3. Chapter 2

Holly awoke to the sound of pounding on her door. It wasn't even 7 am. She groaned, pulling the pillow over her head. Her sister's bed was warm and soft, and she didn't feel like getting up, ever.

The pounding only grew louder.

She woke up a little bit more, and for once, panicked slightly. What if it was the guy who kidnapped her sister? Holly had a smaller, more petite build than her sister—and she envied her sister's curves—and if he could drag her out while she was putting up a fight, then he could drag out Holly.

Holly didn't think of herself as weak, she was just tiny.

"Holly, open the door. We're not the intruders I can assure you." Sherlock's voice, muffled by the door, floated throughout the house. She breathed in a sigh of relief, tugging the hair tie out of her hair, letting it fall down in messy waves.

She tried tugging her shorts down as well, but to no avail. She shrugged, figured this was as good as it was going to get, and padded over to the door.

She was wearing her University's over large, over comfy pullover sweatshirt, which pooled literally everywhere around her. It was warm, and it's not like she had anyone to impress while she slept.

For now, she figured she could at least attempt to wear pants instead of shorts. And maybe a nicer top.

"Uh, sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone this early…" She trailed off, once again tugging on her shorts. It's not like her shorts were disgustingly short or anything, she was just a genuinely self-conscious person. She preferred being covered.

"You don't have a boyfriend." Sherlock stated, sliding past her into the flat, John tagging along with him. It wasn't a question or even an accusation. Just…a statement.

"Um…that's right?" _It is way too early in the morning for this._

"Why do you own such an impossibly large sweater?" He stopped and stared at her as if he was really trying to figure this out, and couldn't. He looked more than a little ticked off.

"I bought it at my University. I like big sweatshirts." She shrugged, pulling it up over her shoulder where it began sliding. Sherlock eyed the movement, but again, he didn't look leering.

"So, uh, would anyone like some—wait, how did you know where I lived?" Holly stopped mid sentence, turning around the face them. John shrugged, and pointed over to Sherlock.

"I follow him, not the other way around."

Sherlock sighed as if being around them was making him more stupid. "You had a St. John's University pin on your bag the first day you came here. That narrowed it down considerably. If you were paying for college on your own, I figured you didn't own a car. So, biking or walking distance away then. You had nice, clean sneakers on, however, so running around and tripping at night wasn't an option, so I deduced you weren't from a terrible neighborhood, so, I narrowed it down to this street and Kamden street. Your sister was in a flat, and Kamden doesn't have flats, so, here. Your sister was on her own as well, I presume, so it wasn't that extremely expensive flat around the corner. Checked the doorbell name labels, there was April Michaels."

He took in a breath of air.

"That was amazing!" Holly exclaimed, not noticing the shock on both John's and Sherlock's faces. "What else can you do?"

John stepped ahead of Sherlock before he could gloat. Which he was going to do…very soon. "Now, Sherlock, you can brag later. We came with news, Holly."

Sherlock pouted from behind him, but didn't say a word.

"Ah! Right, of course. Let me set some tea. Do you want any breakfast?"

"I'll have whatever you're having, thank you Holly." John smiled warmly, sitting down at the table and looking around a little

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock mumbled, taking a walk over to the bed area. The covers were still warm from Holly, and there was a bunch of her clothing strewn over the floor.

"Sorry—I told you I wasn't expecting anyone yet…" She blushed, scrambling eggs and pouring them onto the pan. They sizzled.

"No, it's fine. Do you remember where the items were found, Holly?"

"The gloves and note? Yes. The note actually was hidden beneath a corner of the blanket that was on the floor; I'm guessing he left it before she started struggling."

Sherlock nodded, slightly impressed. It was an easy deduction, but still, not many people noticed the little things.

"And the gloves were just lying on the side of the bed. I tried to figure out if there was some sort of meaning...but they were just messily lying there, like they were thrown or fell out of a pocket. They definitely didn't look placed." She divided the eggs onto two plates, toasted mini bagels for her and John, and set a plate in front of him. His answering grin was blinding.

Sherlock didn't say anything, just observed the area. A couple of times, he picked up what seemed to be nothing but dust and small strings of hair from the floor and put them into tiny Ziploc bags.

"Tea's ready." She brought each cup to the table, setting them down in front of John, herself, and a place for Sherlock. She left the milk and sugar on the table for them; she didn't know how they liked their tea.

She was surprised to find John making Sherlock's tea, and smiled.

"How long have you guys been friends? You seem well suited for each other." John looked as if he were about to fight back (not actually upset, just so she didn't get the wrong idea), so she hastily added "as friends, of course."

"6 months, 4 weeks, and 7 days." Sherlock said distractedly, and Holly snorted. He looked up, actually slightly alarmed.

"Sorry, I tend to snort when I laugh sometimes. Most people never guess." She grins and shrugs, already growing used to Sherlock's calculating stare.

"Anyway," She continued, "You said you brought news?"

"Yes, yes! We're going to visit Lestrade, actually. We want him to inspect the gloves."

"Lestrade?" She questioned, looking at John. Sherlock, however, was the one who continued.

"Lestrade is a detective, he works with the police. I noticed a symbol inside of the gloves, one that is familiar. I'm just comfirming with Lestrade."

"Right…okay. I'm going too, right?"

The two men blinked at each other. "We…well, normally we don't—"

"John, this is my sister. Literally the one person I tolerate on this planet. I want every possible part in finding her, do you hear me? Every part. Even the dangerous ones. I would be doing this myself, but like I told you—I don't really know what I'm doing without you guys. I promise not to be a handful; I can take care of myself. So, please?" She bit her lip and looked between them frantically, widening her eyes. She didn't do it often; she found it annoying. But she was growing desperate. It might not work on Sherlock…but John seemed to be the type who fell for puppy-dog eyes.

She was right.

"Well—it's alright with me. What'd'ya say, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sat silently for a moment, watching her with another calculating look. She stared back unwaveringly.

"I suppose having a female actually does make things easier. Females have an easier time getting into places that have security. Can you act?"

"Of course I can act. Can you breathe?" She shot back, feeling giddy and smug at the slight twitch of his lips. That was the closest to a smile she's seen, so it totally counted as a victory.

"Well then. We'll be off. Go put on something slightly more presentable, even though I'm sure Lestrade and Anderson would let you in without any explanation."

Holly flushed and tugged on her shorts, grumbling about men and their perverse nature. She left them in the kitchen and threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a slightly large jumper; keeping her warm. It hung to her mid thighs, and she looked quite tiny, but it was her favorite jumper. She slipped on her flats and threw her cell phone into her bag, as well as some money and other things.

Sherlock was tapping his foot impatiently so Holly stuck her tongue out at him. He watched in confusion, actual confusion, and she laughed. John just eyed the two of them, amused. Sherlock didn't get baffled often; but then again he guessed no one stuck their tongue out at them often.

"C'mon, we don't got all day." She winked, skipping out the door.

* * *

><p>They took a taxi to the office, Sherlock blissfully ignoring Donovan and Anderson when they got there. At least, he tried.<p>

"What're you doing here, freak?" Donovan was sneering at him, and Holly's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. She saw the way the slightly easy, calm face turned hard and cold. She thought that before he was being aloof, but that was him relaxed, at least slightly.

Holly's eyes narrowed at the woman who stopped in front of her. She was eyeing here curiously. "And who is this? How did you manage to get a cute girl to follow you around? How much is the freak paying you?"

"_Sherlock_" she spit out, watching the way Donovan recoiled, "is not paying me to follow him. He's—he's my friend." She made sure to wink, and slip her arms around Sherlock's arm. He looked a bit startled, but she stepped on his foot, giving him a slight glare.

"She's my friend, Donovan. Now if you'll excuse us, we have a case to solve."

The three of them pushed past her, hearing her mutter something about him being a freak, and brainwashing John and this redhead. Holly just rolled her eyes, pulling back from Sherlock's arm. She felt a little cold in the arm, but didn't mention anything.

"I'll go ahead, stop in to let Lestrade know to behave; we have guests." He left abruptly, and Holly chuckled, leaning against a doorframe. John was eyeing her curiously.

"What is with that look that everyone seems to be giving me?" She huffed, pushing her fringe out of her face with her palms, something she began to do as a habit.

John just chuckled. "Sherlock barely lets anyone touch him. He barely even lets anyone call him his friend. You should feel honored." His tone was humorous, but Holly could see seriousness behind his eyes. Clearly, Sherlock didn't let people in and just tolerating her was something new. She could see John telling her not to blow it.

"Maybe it's the red hair." She grinned, watching Sherlock poke his head out of an office, beckoning them in.

Holly peeked into the door, and Lestrade straightened up, looking confused. "When he meant company, I thought he meant a skeleton or something dead—not…not a person. A female. How do you know Sherlock?"

"Why does everyone seem so baffled that he happens to have a female friend? He is quite interesting, you know." She could feel everyone's eyebrows go up from this, and she wondered how weird this guy must have really been if everyone, including himself, is shocked.

Sherlock didn't seem like the type of guy to be shocked.

"Right, well, while you all gape like fish…" She started, grinning at them. Sherlock recuperated the quickest—obviously—and was already standing like he hadn't been shocked. Which he totally was. Holly saw his face.

"My name is Holly, pleasure to meet you Detective Lestrade." She shook his hand, smiling pleasantly. "My sister is missing. She's been gone for a week now, well, 5 days, and—the gloves. Did Sherlock show you the gloves?"

"Yes, in fact he did. I'm sorry to say, to all of you, that the symbol isn't actually the same. It's quite similar, however, so we feel that he must be in the same division. We're having the insides scraped for DNA tonight. Should we get men to check out the place?"

"No, no…that's okay. I sleep there." She shrugged, watching Lestrade's face scrunch up.

"You sleep in a place where your sister was just abducted from? Alone? Men, how do you let this happen?"

Sherlock simply shrugged, while John had the decency to look slightly more flustered.

"They took what they wanted for now, no one would be coming back for Holly anytime soon. She'd be fine in that place, but if it bothers you so much, and now I can see that it's bothering John because his face is flushing and he's having that eye spasms that he gets when he's growing upset—"

"Thank you, Sherlock. Continue relevantly, please." John grumbled, and Holly giggled. She looked confused, though. She could take care of herself, and Sherlock was right, no one would be after her when they had her sister and wanted to play a game with her.

"But if it's bothering everyone so much, she is welcome to stay at our flat, right John? I don't sleep, my bed is available. I like the couch anyway. I think on the couch. Nicotine flows better when I have the exact angle of position as the couch." Sherlock explained, but Holly was too busy feeling like a burden.

"I already have you guys doing me a favor by taking this case—really, I'm fine in that flat. Can we just—this isn't about me. I just want to find my sister." She was growing aggravated, people were treating her like she was some breakable thing. She didn't like the attention people were giving her 'looks' either. She wasn't beautiful like April or her mum, people didn't have to lie. She didn't even complain about it, she just didn't like unneeded compliments.

Sherlock was frustrated as well. Honestly, he didn't have time to deal with people. Sentiment made things worse, it made him not focus on the case. He didn't have time to be worrying about where she would sleep, but now that Lestrade brought it up, it wasn't leaving his mind.

"John, talk to her. I'm going out to think." He stormed off like a child, and Holly folded her arms over her chest and pouted.

"You're both children!" John exclaimed, looking at Sherlock's retreating back and then at Holly, who looked at her arms.

"Holly," he tried again, softer this time. Lestrade was just grinning from his seat. "We only bring it up because we don't want something to happen to you, too. You want to help your sister, and the first step is to make sure you're okay. How can you help her if you're not here?"

Holly mumbled, knowing they were right. She just—she didn't like feeling like charity.

"I'm sorry," she looked at them sincerely, "I must sound like a spoiled brat. I'm just, growing tired of this whole thing. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Lestrade looked at her with sympathy, which she normally would have glared at, but it was comforting at the same time. "Things like this happen all the time, and I know it doesn't sound like comforting words, but we solve them all the time. We have a chance to find your sister, too. Just take a breather, yeah?"

She nodded, and walked out with John by her side. "So are you—am I—"

"You're welcome, in fact we'd prefer if you stayed with us. If you feel bad about taking Sherlock's room, which he really doesn't use, I know Mrs. Hudson has a spare room that she'd be more than willing to let you have. She's been asking about you nonstop."

Holly smiled, warmth coiling in her belly. She never had a mother figure, not really, who cared enough to ask about her.

"Well—okay. I need to get some of my things, though. And it—it's not permanent. I like staying with my sister, or at her flat."

John nodded, smiling. "Of course."

* * *

><p>When Sherlock returned to the flat, Holly was already there, curled up in a ball in that alarmingly large sweater. He calmed down from before, not letting irrational anger get out of him. He thought it through, and the only thing he could come to conclusion with was concern. The word brought a disgusting taste to him mouth, but he figured he could nip the bud at the beginning, get the case done quickly, and not have to worry about Holly anymore.<p>

"I'm sorry…"She mumbled, biting her lip—_clear signs of nerves and embarrassment—_and looking at him through her lashes—_heavy guilt.—_

He nodded and ignored her, not saying anything else. He was back in character though, and John had told her that apologies weren't his thing. He didn't like accepting real ones, and he didn't like giving them. Things were okay if he went back to his usual self, which is what he did. Relief filled Holly and she felt herself breathing easier. Sherlock was weird, and brilliant, and she wanted to be his friend.

She bounced up onto her knees, peering over the couch as he went to the kitchen. John was in the shower, but he left Sherlock's tea on the counter.

"So, what else do you know about me?" She asked curiously, smiling as he looked her over.

"Some things are better not shared."

"Aw, Sherlock please? I'm genuinely curious if you could get it right." She knew he liked a challenge, but he knew that he was right. He didn't know how much she wanted to hear. She was still like everyone else though, and he didn't let feeling bad about knowing her problems stop him. He sat down.

"You don't like being watched; you get uncomfortable. This shows signs of self-consciousness. You walk with a false air of confidence that is quite believable to the normal eye, I must commend you on that acting skill. You break eye contact quickly when it's a surprise; so, abuse. Not a boyfriend, you told us you didn't have one. I'm not only going on that, though, but also because the bruises are mostly on your shoulders and arms, whereas a boyfriend would probably grip your hips or legs more. So, probably your father. This means they're still alive, you just don't talk about them. The situation is pretty bad, very bad probably. You don't speak about it, it's as if they don't exist. You're clumsy, tons of small splashes of drinks on your clothes and shoes. You get guilty quickly, you have a strong sense of morals and conscious. You're kind; too kind actually—"

He stopped himself, realizing how much he's been talking. Holly is just watching, mesmerized. Sherlock felt strange, being watched like that. He was always the one doing the watching. Always.

"Okay…some of that stuff would be great that you didn't know, but my God, that was bloody amazing!" She exclaimed, her eyes still wide in awe.

Sherlock loved compliments, especially because he was called a freak more often then not. Still, he did his best to looked decent. He rubbed his neck lightly and sipped his tea, nodding his head in a slight thanks.

Holly's smile widened as John came down stairs. "John, John, do you know what Sherlock can do? With his—and the—"

"Yes, Holly." He grinned.

"It's amazing!"

"You people should come up with new words. John's already worn out every synonym to that word in the dictionary."

Holly cracked a grin as well, and surprisingly, so did Sherlock. The three of them sat down, watching telly and calming down.

Things shouldn't be comforting when you're sister is missing. But right now, all Holly felt was warm.

* * *

><p>hee, hi guys!<p>

this chapter is actually longer than any of them, standing at 9 pages. I just didn't know where to end it.

this was a filler, sorry guys. I'll be getting more point-ful information in soon,

things are going to start kicking off with her sister, and the case, and things.

unless you guys are liking the progression of their relationship as well, and want stuff like this too.

you have to tell me! otherwise i don't know what i should work with. and my fingers just write. xD

anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments make me motivated. c:

Hope your nights are swell! xx


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